


Even Dead Men Dream

by Nightfox



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Character Death, M/M, Magic Revealed, Necromancy, Resurrection, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightfox/pseuds/Nightfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>True Love never dies, even when you do. This is a story about what love can do when you don't let it rest in peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Dead Men Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for [](http://merlin-canon.livejournal.com/profile)[**merlin_canon**](http://merlin-canon.livejournal.com/)-Prompt no: #26 submitted by [](http://sonten.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sonten.livejournal.com/)**sonten**. This probably isn’t what the original prompter had in mind at all but this is what I came up with at the time! I hope some of you enjoy it.

When Morgana first summoned me to return from death, she called me from where I wandered, lost, beyond the veil. However, she had no use for my soul, just my corpse. Apparently it was easy to obtain my flesh since I’d passed through to the spirit realm with my corporeal being intact. Since I returned the same way, she had to strip spirit from body. The very essence that made me man was cast adrift. I knew nothing of what she did with my earthly vehicle, I wasn’t there. Instead I was…everywhere and…nowhere, all at once. I could feel all but could see nothing. I blew about with the wind and soared to heights undreamt of. I sank deep into the earth and became part of the pulsing heart of Gaia. I was rushing water and crackling flame. I became the elements but lost myself. Becoming part of something so large and powerful erased the small thing that was Lancelot and I became an indistinguishable part of the wider world.

Then _he_ called me back to myself. I opened my eyes and he was there. I breathed him in with a rush. Close, he was so close had I been able to lift my hand I could have touched him. Instead I let go of that sweetly scented lungful of air and sighed his name. His soft lips were parted, his sweet face flushed with colour and his beautiful eyes awash with tears as yet unshed. I looked on his face and was Lancelot again. I felt my lips curl faintly; what little strength remained in my flesh was fleeing. I breathed my gratitude, let my eyes speak my love for precious seconds, and again death fell over me, his visage once more following me into the dark. Both times, his face was the last thing I saw as I died. I'd have had it no other way as his was the most precious image in the world to me, my Merlin.

Death was different this time. I wasn’t lost, wandering beyond the veil. Instead, I was adrift in the waters of Avalon and I was not alone. Much to my surprise, Merlin was well known to the denizens of that place though he was far from universally well favoured. The Sidhe who made their home there seemed to regard him with equal parts fear, loathing and awe. The brave among them called him Emrys; the rest dared not speak his name at all. But there was another who abided there, a spirit, the lake’s own Lady, and by her was Merlin well loved. It was she who welcomed me when I came to awareness in my new dwelling.

The image of his beloved face eventually dissolved into rippling light and a sensation of fluidity. It seemed that somehow I’d become part of the waters of the lake itself. Yet I retained a sense of self, I was still Lancelot but now I was both Lake _and_ Lancelot. She was there, liquid essence of the Sacred Lake yet separate from me. We didn’t speak as such for we neither of us possessed mouths anymore but she washed over me and I was left knowing things. She was Freya, she had once been a mortal like me and like me, she had died in Avalon; her body consigned to the Lake’s magical embrace by Merlin. Like me, his face was the last thing she saw before she became one with the water. She washed over me again and I saw him the way she’d seen him in that moment.

“He loved you.”

I could feel her smile.

“He did.”

She brushed against me.

“You love him.”

It wasn’t a question. Here there was no need for inquiries. Knowledge came with touch.

“I do, Lady. I love him with all that I am.”

I flowed over her. I felt her love for him as well and it was a comfort. I know not how long we spent exchanging memories. She hadn’t known Merlin very long but their time had been marked by intense affection. She was hungry to absorb all of him that I held in me. I gave it to her as freely as she’d shared her portion of his heart with me.

“He loved you, Lancelot. Never doubt it.”

She wasn’t wrong and yet she was. I didn’t doubt Merlin loved me; I just knew his love wasn’t analogous to mine. There was no fault, he loved me with as much of his heart as he could spare but I knew, I _always_ knew, that the greater portion of his affections belonged to his Prince. My true sorrow didn’t come from the pain of my unrequited love for him; it came from the knowledge that his own love went unanswered.

Surging around me, she soaked me with negation. Her understanding of Merlin’s love for Arthur described a bond of brothers, not lovers. I pushed back with my own knowledge. We swirled apart and kept our selves to ourselves. We would neither be convinced of the other’s kenning. However, it was an amicable disagreement and we dwelled together in harmony regardless of the difference.

It was for the most part, a pleasant continuance of being. I retained no real memories of my time beyond the veil but instead there was a vague awareness of cold and dark. Needless to say, I much preferred my second after-life. It only added to the all-consuming affection I still maintained for the man who had bestowed it upon me.

Honestly, I know not how long my spirit lingered in that place before I was ripped from it.

___________________________________________________________________________

He was buffeted with cold and heat and…dry, everything was _so_ dry…air, it was air. He hadn’t felt air since he’d gone to dwell in Avalon. Wherever he was now, it was _not_ the peaceful waters of that sacred lake.  
His senses adapted slowly. Sensations traveled differently through air than they did through water. The noise was overwhelming, deafening him. He could make out screams of terror blending with shouts of outrage but could distinguish no single voice. There was colour everywhere, blurred shapes moving this way and that but nothing stayed still long enough for him to focus his vision. He was assaulted by the effluvia of airborne stenches. The air was so thick with those volatile compounds he could actually _taste_ them; smoke, sweat, food and perfume all mingled to produce a vile, clinging flavour.

With time and effort, his surroundings slowly settled into something sensible. It helped that whatever chaos he’d been sucked into began to resolve itself. However, awareness came with a price. He was…leashed somehow. He followed the line of binding power and wasn’t truly surprised when it led straight to an old nemesis, Morgana Le Fay. The witch might call herself Pendragon now but Lancelot never would. She wasn’t worthy to share Arthur’s name, even if they did share common blood.

He recognized the place where he stood; it the throne room of Camelot. It also appeared to be a full assembly of the court as well. Arthur sat on the main throne and to Lancelot’s surprised pleasure, he wore the crown of a King. At his left sat the Queen, Guinevere. As always, the sight of her brought him a mixture of guilt, satisfaction and pain. He hadn’t done right by her and he knew it and that was his guilt. His satisfaction came from knowing that, despite his less than honourable behavior toward her, he knew she was happy and loved. However, his satisfaction and his pain sprang from the same source. She was happy and she was loved and it was Arthur Pendragon who had done that for her. However, it was also Arthur Pendragon who had _not_ done that for Merlin and seeing the royal couple must always cause the gentle warlock pain. Lancelot had long since learned that anything that hurt Merlin hurt him as well. He glimpsed the tall, slim form of his beloved figure, standing to Arthur’s right, half a step back from the King’s throne.

 

Lancelot had but seconds to absorb this tableau before his leash was yanked. The mental hand holding it was hard and cruel.

“Tell me everything you know of Emrys.”

Morgana had been speaking for long moments before Lancelot’s senses coalesced enough for him to understand what the twisting motion of her lips meant and finally he was able to pick out her voice from the cacophony that assaulted his over sensitized hearing. Her face was contorted into an expression of fury and vindictive triumph and they twisted awkwardly together. Her delicate features weren’t suited to such savagery and his whirling consciousness recognized that her blackened heart and withered soul, the ugliness she’d hidden within herself for so long, were finally reflected on the outside. Her once beautiful face was now hideous to look upon.

Now that he could hear her properly, he found he was forced to answer the question she’d put to him.

“I know that as soon as I _knew him_ , I loved him with my whole heart.” Neither of them heard the soft gasp that emanated from behind the throne.

Impatiently she interrupted; clearly she realized she had phrased the question poorly and the compulsion laid upon Lancelot’s soul would lead him to list details she had no patience for. 

“Who is he? He is here, isn’t he? A member of Arthur’s court? Who is he? Tell me! _I_ command you and you must obey!”

Morgana followed Lancelot’s gaze as it swung directly to the throne upon which Arthur himself sat, obviously puzzled. There was no sorcerer there, no Emrys, just the King, the despised usurper of her crown and that ever meddling annoyance, Merlin. In her frustration, the witch formed a clawed fist and squeezed. Lancelot’s shade screamed in agony. She smiled briefly, pleased with the confirmation of her studies; dead men _could_ still feel pain. What he should not have been able to do was disobey her, not even for an instant.

“Tell me now. Who. Is. Emrys?”

The spirit bowed his head in shame as he was forced to answer.

“You have known him longer than I, Lady. All of you have and yet have none of you ever recognized the wonder in your midst? His heart is deeper than any I’ve yet to see. His soul shines so brightly it nearly blinded me when first we met. He is recognizable to _every_ bodiless spirit, is kin to every creature of magic and he is both feared and revered by even so great a race as the Sidhe. His is a future that has been written since the dawn of time. He will bring the golden age that the poets sing of, the time of Albion. He is the greatest sorcerer who has _ever_ lived. And yet not one among you could see past the end of your own nose to recognize this man who glows so richly in your presence. The Druids, who hold the ancient prophecies of the Old Religion, call him Emrys; however you _all_ know him by the name given to him by his mother…a small, fierce tercel.”

Before the name could even leave the spirit’s lips, almost every eye in the room had already snapped to the tall, slender young man standing at the right hand of the King. Merlin’s eyes sought Lancelot’s and saw in the dead man’s gaze a plea for forgiveness. He had no choice, Morgana’s compulsion held him fast.

“Our Merlin is your Emrys.”

Merlin’s bright blue eyes closed and his forehead pinched. Lancelot longed for a sword and for hands able to wield it. Everything in him cried out to fling himself between the warlock and the coming storm but he was held fast in the spot where he’d materialized at the sorceress’s call.

Arthur choked and began to turn an alarming shade of purple. The Queen paled and clutched the gilded wood of her throne but it was Morgana who reacted most violently. She screamed and Lancelot recognized the sound of enraged anguish. It was the same sound she’d made when she’d found her sister Morgause half-dead and bleeding on the floor of the council chamber the day Merlin had defeated both the sorceress and her immortal army.

“No! Nooooo!! It’s a _lie_ , you cannot be Emrys. You’re nothing but Arthur’s pathetic little lap dog! A mongrel I’ve suffered long enough!”

She flung her hand in Merlin’s direction, screaming an incantation as her eyes flamed a bright orange-red. A burst of blue flame shot from her palm in a stream that flowed directly toward Merlin’s unprotected face. The sweet-faced man garbed in the simple peasant clothes that denoted his humble origins didn’t so much as flinch. Instead the ocean blue of his extraordinary eyes suddenly swirled the same molten gold of a jeweler’s crucible. Merlin’s lips never moved and yet the flame was extinguished faster than the assembled court could blink. The silent mage took two steps forward and one to the left, placing himself between the King and his crazed half-sister.

Both King and Queen seemed frozen where they sat and Lancelot was unsure if it was the result of some enchantment or simply the shock of discovering the sweet, sunny-tempered servant they’d known for years was calmly and silently repelling magic the likes of which they’d never witnessed in their lives. Lancelot spared a glance for Arthur and was relieved to see his colour fading back to a slightly healthier fuchsia.

Morgana muttered the ancient, incomprehensible spell this time, clearly hoping to take Merlin off guard. When the marble floor beneath his worn leather boots erupted, flinging huge chunks of stone everywhere, the young warlock flung both hands out even as he began to fall into the gaping crater that opened under his feet. Every piece of flying rock from a table sized chunk to the tiniest pointed pebble froze in mid-air and hung there suspended, fixed like leaf litter in hardened resin. Merlin hit the jagged floor of the crater hard but immediately rolled to his knees and staggered to his feet. Even as Morgana’s eyes began to burn and a guttural chant rumbled in her throat, Merlin bent his bloodied knees and simply _leapt_ out of a ditch that could be no less than eight feet deep.

Unwilling to look away from the arcane duel being played out before him, Lancelot was still aware of the collective gasp at that little move. Blue flames sizzling across the room and frozen chunks of marble hanging in the air all around and it was the sight of a man jumping out of a hole that impressed the gathered onlookers. Then again, perhaps this was the first moment any of them had remembered to breathe since the magical fight began.

“Morgana, please, for the sake of the friendship we once shared, don’t force my hand.” Merlin’s deep voice was soft but steady. Though couched in the terms of a plea, his words were clearly a warning.

“Don’t force your hand? You filthy hypocrite! You knew! You knew all along what was happening to me and you did nothing, _nothing_ to aid me! You were never my friend. I begged you; I was practically on my knees pleading for help. I was going insane, I was so scared and you _knew_ , you knew all of it because I told you. I _trusted_ you and you betrayed me again and again! You brought Uther’s men down on the Druid camp, you _poisoned_ me, you condemned my sister to an agonizingly slow death. _I_ had to end her, I had to plunge a dagger into my only sister’s heart because of you!”

With an air more of pity than sadness, Merlin shook his head, never averting his golden gaze from Morgana’s fiery orbs.

“No Morgana, the choice was always yours. You’re no child. No one _made_ you do anything. I did what I could to help you. I tried to get you to people who could help you. What could I do? I was _still a boy_ Morgana, barely seventeen years old! I had no training, the only teaching I had came from one small book I’d had only for a few months. What do you think I could have taught you? _You_ brought Uther’s men down on those Druids because you didn’t bother to leave so much as a note of farewell for your father or brother. Did you really think they’d just shrug and go on with their lives when you disappeared? Uther may have been consumed with fear and hatred but he loved you more than anything. He weakened the whole of his kingdom to send his _entire_ army to look for you when Morgause took you away. Then when you came back and had your accident, he told Gaius to use any means to cure you, including _magic_! He loved you more than he hated magic. You could have been the one to change his mind but _you_ chose to turn on everyone who loved you.”

The lanky mage walked forward step by careful step and Morgana yielded ground as he came closer, edging away from his advancing form.

“Yes, I poisoned you. I poisoned you because you were killing every citizen of Camelot! You would have let Morgause use you to kill _everyone_ you claimed to care about. You used to adore Gwen, you used to love Arthur as a brother even before you knew he _was_ your brother. You swore me your friendship and yet you would have let your sister kill me and everyone else you ever _knew_. Do you think it was easy for me to do that? To kill you? I _loved_ you! But I loved Gwen, and Gaius, and Arthur as well. If I hadn’t made that choice an entire city would have perished! Wise old grannies and babes in their cradles! Young lovers and pregnant mothers! All so you and Morgause could wreak your personal vengeance on Uther. All of your friends and hundreds of innocent people were nothing more than collateral damage to the two of you!”

Merlin’s lips thinned in contempt, his brows drawing low over eyes of molten gold.

“As for Morgause? How many hundreds did she slaughter in her quest for power? She was worse than Nimueh and if I felt no remorse for killing her do you really think I wasted so much as a _thought_ for your cruel, selfish sister after she tried to kill Arthur, tried to kill Gaius, tried how many times to kill me? I can think of no one who deserved a slow and painful death more than she. Though I suspect it was actually you who drew out her suffering. Had she just a shade less magic she’d have been gone before you even got to her. Were you too scared of being left alone to just let her pass peacefully? Did you keep shoring her up no matter how much it hurt her? Huddled together in your little hovel, hiding from the world and hating everyone in it, yourself most of all?”

Morgana’s face, red already when Merlin began to speak, steadily darkened in colour as he refuted each and every one of her accusations. Her breathing was harsh, her teeth clenched and her eyes blazing flame red. She flung a hand in Merlin’s direction, fingers curled into a claw but Merlin was having none of it. Whatever it was that he did, the bright flash of blinding light from his eyes was the only indication that he’d acted at all. The effect on Morgana, however, was instant and unmistakable. She wrapped her arms around her waist, doubled over and began screaming in obvious agony.

Walking slowly forward, Merlin stopped only feet away from where the witch crouched, writhing and contorted with agony. His face was a blank but his eyes continued to blaze until she fell to her knees and touched her forehead to the stone floor, screaming all the while. As soon as she was down, the warlock’s eyes faded back to their normal cornflower blue.

“I have taken pity on you so many times Morgana. We were once the very best of friends. And despite all you’ve done, Arthur still loves you. He never speaks of it but he misses the sister he once had. For his sake, I have allowed you to live when there were so many opportunities to end you. I’ll say it again. Don’t. Make. Me. Kill. You. Leave now and don’t you ever try to hurt Arthur, Gwen or even so much as a weed on the road to Camelot or I _will_ make sure you never see another sunrise.”

The hatred twisted her face into something inhuman but she backed up on her knees. Lancelot felt her pull him along beside her.

“Fine. I’ll go for now but I think I’ll keep my newest pet for a while. You do seem so awfully fond of him.”

She scrambled to her feet and backed toward the open space near the rear of the throne room tugging Lancelot’s spirit along as if he truly were a hound on a leash.

“Let him go, Morgana.”

“I think you’ve dictated enough today, _Emrys_. He’s mine now.”

Wind howled through the room from no discernible source, and Lancelot felt himself dissolve into the sweep of air as completely as he’d once dissolved into the lake of Avalon. Colours blurred and he desperately looked for Merlin. Then, as suddenly as the air began to swirl, it stilled, the air going dead calm. Morgana fell from a six foot height above the floor, landing hard on her backside in a tangle of torn silk skirts. Lancelot found himself near the ground once again. He supposed he was standing upon the floor but he couldn’t actually feel it in his incorporeal form. The line of energy tying him to Morgana tore, and he felt as if a great wound had opened where his chest ought to be. He cried out and shuddered, his form blurring, then the wound filled with warmth and he came back to himself. Something was very different this time though. He tugged the connection and found it now led to Merlin.

Morgana was struggling to rise when the warlock turned enormous cold eyes upon her. Lancelot watched in fascination as those blue, blue orbs began to shimmer bright and golden once again. Now Merlin was speaking, a long string of words that Lancelot knew he’d never understand but Morgana seemed to recognize.

“No, no! You can’t! He’s been dead too long, he doesn’t even have a body! You’re no priest of the Old Religion! You. _Can't!_ Nooooo!!”

Merlin continued to utter those strange and twisted words, the sound somewhere between a hiss and a chant. Morgana was down on her back, desperately trying to scrabble backward toward the open doors to the throne room. A quick thinking guard slammed the doors shut and shot home the bolt before the witch was even within a few yards of escape.

His voice increasing in volume and intensity with every word, Merlin built to an obvious crescendo and ended the last syllable with a snap of his teeth. There was a split second of complete stillness then a gold mist enveloped Morgana where she lay whimpering on the floor. She gasped a final time and Lancelot heard the barely audible word almost lost in that terminal breath. “How?”

Merlin took a last look at her and uttered just one more word, “Nimueh.”

He immediately turned his attention to Lancelot, ignoring the sight of Morgana’s form dissolving into the mist.

“Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said?”

Lancelot was confused. So much had been said, he didn’t know which statement Merlin referred to.

Merlin’s voice now held a desperation that hadn’t once surfaced during his confrontation with Morgana.

“When you said you loved me with your whole heart, did you mean it?”

He focused on Merlin’s face, taking in the high planes of his cheekbones, the elegant slope of his nose, the earnest depths of his ocean blue eyes. He saw how Merlin’s full lips were pinched into a narrow line. It was one of the most serious expressions he’d ever seen on the mage’s countenance. Neither man watched the golden mist that was Morgana as it congealed into a thick yellow fluid that flowed along the floor and began to seep through the cracks between the stone blocks that formed its polished surface.

“From the first moment that I truly _knew_ you, Merlin, you held both my heart and soul. I couldn’t bear to stay and watch you pine for another, so I left. When you called for me, I came. There is no way I could ever refuse you anything. There never will be. And though I found it hurt to watch you suffer your love unrequited, even as I suffered mine for you, it was far better to be by your side, better to be your friend, than it had been to live without you altogether. When you pledged to sacrifice yourself and take Arthur’s place to heal the veil between the worlds, I knew I couldn’t let you. I’d rather die than live in a place where you don’t exist. However, it wasn’t until the dragon begged you not to let yourself die that I understood that it wasn’t just me who couldn’t survive without you. I always knew you were special Merlin but until that moment, I never knew that you were just as important to the rest of the world as you are to me. Had there been any doubts before that, none lingered after. I was happy to take your place, happy to know that you would still be here to make the world a better place.”

The strand that connected him to Merlin grew light as Merlin’s full red lips curved into a blinding smile. He felt the blackness begin to take him once again, and for the third time it was Merlin’s beautiful face that followed him into the dark, but it was the first time he left with Merlin’s smile keeping his fading soul warm.

___________________________________________________________________________

Once again, I woke in Avalon. However, this time, I came to consciousness not floating beneath its waters but instead laying upon its shore. The sun was warm on my skin and I seemed to be resting on a soft patch of moss. It was then that I realized several things. First, I was neither water nor air but flesh and blood. Next I noticed my flesh was as bare as the day I was born but somehow I wasn’t really bothered by this. I rolled over and looked out over the lake and it was noticed a third amazement. I saw there the top of what appeared to be a human head. Facing me, bright brown eyes were surrounded by hair that lay floating on the surface of the lake like water-weeds. I thought I knew those eyes but couldn’t be sure for I had never seen her in any fleshly form.

“Freya?”

I could see her eyes smile at me and then bit by bit the rest of her face emerged from the water until only her chin still lay beneath the tiny waves washing across the lake.

“It’s good to see you Lancelot. It’s been quiet without you here. The Sidhe just aren’t that friendly.”

“Have I been gone that long?”

“You know how hard it is to tell here. I don’t think that time runs the same in Avalon as it does in the rest of the world.”

“Why would that be?”

“Apparently it’s a Sidhe thing. They really are irritable, contrary little things.”

“Yes well, apparently Merlin has killed more than a few of them, including their king and they know how highly you esteem him so…”

She sighed and drooped a little further down in the water. I looked at her and while I could clearly see her, she didn’t seem quite as solid as I did now.

“Freya? Why is it that I seem to be flesh again? Is this an illusion? What’s happened to me?”

She smiled and I could see once again why Merlin fell so fast and hard for her. She was utterly lovely, inside and out.

“Merlin happened. I told you he loved you.”

“I don’t understand.”

She sighed, dipped under the water and resurfaced closer to where I lay. It occurred to me for the first time that I was completely naked in front of a lady. Sadly, I hadn’t enough hands to cover everything so I settled for sitting up and primly crossing my legs as she began to speak.

“Did Merlin ever tell you of his…battle I guess you might call it, with the sorceress Nimueh?”

I winced, the story was such a painful one for me, knowing how close I came to losing Merlin and I hadn’t even been there for him. It would take me a long time to forgive myself for abandoning him after the griffon incident. I had taken the easy route and used the excuse that I would cause no strife between King and Prince. The truth was that I had seen how deeply Arthur and Merlin cared for each other and did not think I could ever come between them.

“Yes, he told me that he offered his life in exchange for Arthur’s and that the sorceress tried to take his mother instead, then she tried to take Gaius in exchange for Hunith and Merlin was forced to kill her to keep all those he cared for alive. He said Nimueh’s death restored the balance.”

“Yes, those are the physical details of what happened but something else very important happened to Merlin that morning. He actually mastered the power of life and death itself; the power to _mirror_ life and death. It’s a very serious ability, not something to be taken lightly and he was so very young to be burdened with such power. As far as I know, he never used it again after that day…until Morgana tried to take you away once more.”

I remembered Morgana’s screams as Merlin’s golden mist surrounded her and suddenly I understood what Merlin had done. I winced as the image of that yellow…fluid, flowing across the floor rose before my mind’s eye. That terrible ooze had been _Morgana_ , had been her life sinking into the floor of the throne room. Merlin had exchanged Morgana’s life for my own. Evil as Arthur’s sister had no doubt been, something twisted in my stomach at the thought. That my life had been purchased at the cost of someone else’s…was that something I could live with?

“Lancelot? Lancelot?”

I turned to face Freya and saw understanding in her eyes.

“He was here. He came while you were still asleep; promised to return for you when you were well enough to leave Avalon.” She smiled softly. “He did not take her death lightly, nor would he ever have so callously exchanged one life for another but for what she intended to do with you. She was defeated and she knew it. She knew that as long as Emrys stood as Camelot’s protector, as _Arthur’s_ protector she could not win the day. She intended to make you her slave. Having raised your spirit, you were hers to control. She knew how important you are to him and so she would have made him suffer by torturing you in every way she could imagine. If someone planned to hurt Merlin like that, would you stand by and let them when you knew you had the power to stop it?”

A savage rage grew in my heart at the mere thought of someone harming my gentle Merlin. I said nothing but my face must have betrayed my thoughts.

“He could do no less for you. As it is, he has always shown Morgana far more mercy than ever she deserved. He still carries within him some guilt for what she became. He will always wonder that had he done more for her when her power began to manifest itself, that perhaps she would not have felt so alone; she might not have turned so bitter and hateful. Prophecy tells us otherwise but Merlin isn’t a big believer in prophecies unless they pertain to Arthur.” She grinned then. “He has a rather peculiar blind spot when it comes to his King.”

Within my chest, my heart grew heavy. Merlin’s unshakeable faithfulness and love for Arthur had never escaped my notice. When I’d told him Arthur was a better man than I, he’d certainly not contradicted me, even though he thought I meant as a mate for Gwen. The bitter truth I had been chewing on that long, cold night was that Arthur _must_ be a far better man than I for he had won the hearts and devotion of the only two people I could ever have seen myself loving.

I hadn’t lied. Arthur did make Gwen happy and that honestly made me happy for when I had briefly considered a future with that sweet lady, I had always known she was a consolation prize at best. When I’d seen her a prisoner in Hengeist’s stronghold it had suited my downtrodden heart to play the gallant knight and rescue the damsel in most perilous distress. She had reminded me of the man I once was; the man that Merlin had known. The man I’d let slip away through heartbreak and loss. I was truly grateful for the reminder. She was like Merlin in so many ways that I told myself if I couldn’t have him then perhaps Gwen might fill in some of the emptiness that was still gaping like a wound in my chest. I could see that she felt more for me than I did for her but I deluded myself into thinking that I could return her feelings if given time. That was until I saw the awkward dance between Prince and Maidservant and knew _that_ pretty pipedream was yet another notion that would never be.  
I didn’t regret leaving Gwen behind, I knew she’d be well looked after but I ached for Merlin. He said little about it when I asked but the look of pain on his face told me all I needed to know. But, because I knew him, I knew that he didn’t just love his Prince, he also felt responsible for his safety, his well-being and even for the state of the man’s heart. He would stay by Arthur’s side and put aside his own happiness to ensure the contentment of his Prince and best friend. I walked away that day having fallen even further in love with that beautiful man.

Freya was speaking again. I looked up and smiled an apology. “I’m so sorry, m’lady. I was lost in thought.”

“Yes and I can guess who it was you were lost over.” She was slowly drifting away from the shore.

“He’s coming for you, you know. Just be patient a little longer. It’s been several days for us here but I suspect that only hours have passed for him. He’ll be back for you and then you can both leave this place together.”

I knew my expression was puzzled; I’d never been good at dissembling. It was an innocuous enough statement but there was coyness to her tone that had me wondering. It sounded like someone reassuring a man that his lover would soon join him and make the ache in his chest cease to pain him. Before I could question her though, she sank beneath the dark waters of the lake and was lost to my sight.

Many days passed, it could even have been weeks slipping by. It was never really possible to gauge the flow of time here in Avalon. I spent most of my time alone and I’m ashamed to admit that most of the time was spent pining for Merlin. Every once in a while Freya would pop her face out of the water and reassure me.

“He’ll be here soon, Lancelot. He’ll never abandon you, you know that.”

I had always been a patient man in life, but now I was finding that if death had changed nothing else about me, it had definitely eroded my ability to wait and allow things to run their course. There was little to do in Avalon. When I’d been noting but spirit, there had been no sense of urgency to anything; boredom was a foreign concept. Now, time seemed to stretch interminably before me. With no weapons, I could not hunt but at least in Avalon the trees, berries and wild vegetables seemed to always be in season, so there was little chance of starving. Without tools, I couldn’t build or craft anything. The air was warm as summer and shelter seemed not to be needed but at least Freya had taken mercy on my modesty and fashioned for me clothing (of a sort) from the long, flat leaves of water-weeds that crowded the edges of the south end of the lake. I must have looked like a primitive but at least everything vital was no longer swaying in the summery breezes.

I tried exploring but it seemed the boundaries of that magical place were small indeed for I was never gone from the lake more than a few hours ere I found myself on its shores once again. I spent much of my time swimming. If one is going to be trapped beside a magical lake in a land of perpetual summer for an indeterminate amount of time, one might as well spend time floating about in a sacred bath enjoying the scent of green and growing things that filled the air.

I couldn’t help thinking that this place that felt like the most luxurious of prisons when I was alone could become paradise on earth if only Merlin were with me. So I took to imagining him there, floating beside me in the water. When I stretched out in a patch of sun to warm and dry myself after a swim, I closed my eyes and he was there too, long, slender limbs sprawled in carefree abandon. I pictured his smile, plump and sweetly curved. I remembered the joyful sound of his laughter and the husky timber his voice took on when he felt passionate about something. I imagined his long graceful fingers tangled with my own but tried desperately not to allow my imagination to take me too far down the road to picturing where else I wanted those nimble, sensitive hands to wander.

When I lay down to sleep it was always on my side, remembering how it felt to curl myself around his back, spooned together to fit in his tiny bed back in his tiny room tucked away at the rear of Gaius’s chambers. I recalled the sweet torture of those long nights, for even before I knew I loved him, I knew I wanted him. I never did anything more than enjoy the sweet curve of his slender body against mine though. He’d been so very young when we met, with an innocence that was painfully obvious to anyone with eyes.  
There had been many a night since then that I’d cursed my own sense of honour for I knew I could have easily had him in those first days when gratitude and admiration had glowed so bright in his wide blue eyes. Though as many times as I’d cursed that moral code which would not have allowed me to seduce a vulnerable boy, no matter how beautiful or willing he might have been, I’d also been grateful for it. Some days I’ve thought that had I made him mine when I had the chance that he might still be mine. But it was more likely that any active passion would have only flashed and burned and left us with nothing. I was still happier that I’d gotten to be his friend and confidant for years rather than a short-lived teenaged fling he’d have forgotten as quickly as all young boys do.

So often did I imagine Merlin was there with me in Avalon that when he finally did come, it took me an embarrassingly long moment to realize that he was real and not just another conjuring of my desperately lonely imagination.

“Lancelot? Lancelot, are you alright?”

I couldn’t help that my voice abandoned me in that moment. _He_ was finally there! He’d come for me just as Freya said he would. I could not speak but I could smile. I willed all the joy I felt at the sight of him to show in the curve of my lips and the widening of my eyes. Much as I wanted to run to him, I found my feet were sluggish, as though each footstep was taken through sticky, sucking mud but the pull I felt toward him made me _ache_ inside. He was too far away; he could never be close enough. 

He moved no faster than I but that smile he had, the dazzling one that blazed so bright that it could surely charm the sun from the sky was stretched wide across his narrow face. His eyes sparkled like sapphires and a rosy glow spread across the sharp flare of his cheekbones. His clothes were rumpled, his hair curled in wild abandon and there were smudges of dirt across his chin and forehead but to me he’d never looked more beautiful. I could have gazed on his face every moment of every day for the rest of my life and never grown tired of the sight.

When finally our painfully slow feet brought us within touching distance he suddenly leapt forward and flung his arms around my neck and nuzzled the side of my throat as I brought my arms round to circle his narrow waist and pull him close. I’m not ashamed to admit that my knees grew weak when I felt the softness of his lips against my skin. I tilted my head back to give him the access to my neck he seemed to be seeking. I knew I was trembling and I thought he might be as well but I was so shaky it was hard to tell. He finally worked his way to the edge of my jaw and it became too much for me to merely stand passive under his touch. I turned my head and captured his mouth with my own. The soft whimper that escaped his throat emboldened me and I edged my tongue past his moist, parted lips.

Never was there nectar sweeter than the flavour of his tongue as it swept over mine. His fingers tangled in my hair as though to anchor himself there and I allowed my hands to gently sweep up and down the long length of his back. He felt so _right_ in my arms that I never wanted to loosen those limbs lest I never experience another moment like this again. It was inevitable though that he tugged back, ever so gently in my embrace and looked deep into my eyes.

“I’ve missed you, oh gods, you’ll never know how much I’ve missed you.”

I couldn’t drop my eyes from his but I did bow my head. “And I you. All my time in Avalon I’ve thought of nothing and no one else. Even whilst I wandered beyond the veil, your image was my only comfort.”

“Please forgive me but there is something I must do, something I have to know before anything else is said. Will you trust me?”

“With my life and death. I am yours. Do with me what you will.”

Loosening his hold on me, he stepped back and reached for a small pouch hanging from his belt. He loosened the strings holding it closed and poured a fine shimmering powder into him palm. Shakily, he walked a circle round me, sprinkling the dust on the ground and chanting in the strange language I’d learned to recognize as the tongue of magic. He ended his circle where he’d started and faced me, his gaze glowing gold and bright. To my eyes nothing happened save the swirl of blue as it returned to his eyes but whatever he saw made him smile once more and lean forward for another kiss.

“You _are_ Lancelot.”

The smile that graced his face in accompaniment to this strange but simple statement was truly radiant.

“I am.”

“I knew but I had to be sure. Morgana played with your soul so many times, I wasn’t entirely certain I had managed to recover all of it.”

“You’d done it once before when it was far more scattered than it was by her last attack. Why doubt yourself now?”

“Because I’ve lost you too many times to ever take the least mote of your soul for granted.”

“My soul has ever been yours. If anyone could gather it from the ether it could only be you.”

I hadn’t thought it possible but Merlin’s countenance grew even more radiant. In fact a subtle golden glow shimmered beneath his skin as I watched him with my usual mix of love and awe. When he spoke again, it wasn’t a question but I answered it none the less.

“You love me.”

“I always have.”

He stroked a hand down my cheek.

“Gwen?”

I sighed.

“When I believed I could never have you, I thought for a brief moment that I might have her. She is like you in many small ways and for a short time I thought her presence might help fill up the hole you left in my heart. I meant it when I told you I no longer thought of her in that way. It just hurt to see her with Arthur because I knew how much you love him.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled and his smile tipped sideways into a rueful grin.

“I do love Arthur, as the brother I never had and a friend I never thought to gain but I’ve never been in love with him. For many years now a noble spirited knight errant has been in possession of my heart.”

He brought his other hand up to frame my face between his soft palms.

“I’ve loved you since I met you. Why did you let me think it was Gwen who held your affections?”

“I couldn’t bear the pain of what I knew would be your gentle rejection. I thought our friendship would be forever sullied and I’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all.”

“What a pair of fools we are! Well, to set the record straight, I do not now nor have I ever been in love with our prat of a King and I am truly sorry for whatever actions of mine made you think that I was.”

“Well, I did think offering up your life as a sacrifice for his was a bit of an indication. And you have done so more than once!”

He shrugged and stroked his thumbs along my cheekbones. “Both Gaius and Kilgharrah informed me shortly after my arrival in Camelot that the reason I was given my gifts, and thus my purpose in life, was to make sure Arthur survived to be King and unite all of Albion in a golden age unlike any that the world has ever seen. I’ve taken that duty very seriously over the years though it’s never been an easy one. There are altogether too many people who are out to kill that man! I tell you it’s absurd.”

Maybe it was having died more than once or perhaps it was the interminable wait for Merlin to come once again to Avalon but it finally sank into my wondering consciousness. _Merlin loved me!_ Truly loved me as deeply and sincerely as I loved him. I was suffering a serious lack of imagination when I repeated his words of only minutes before.

“You love me! You love _me_! You don’t love Arthur! By the stars above, you love me!”

I ended this slightly incoherent rant on a joyful and dizzy shout and lifted Merlin from the ground and spun him around in a circle before letting him down and hugging him tightly. My beloved warlock just grinned and said, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past candlemark! I think life in Avalon may have addled your wits a wee bit.”

“Well you’ve only yourself to blame for leaving me to languish here for weeks on end.”

Merlin’s expression turned thoughtful. “Weeks? I left you here only two days ago. Freya assured me she would look after you.”

“And she fulfilled her promise. However, after days and days had passed and you did not return, she confided in me her suspicion that time passes differently here than it does outside the boundaries of this place. Something about the Sidhe and the way they alter the stream of time or some such. To tell it true, all of it is a mystery to me. I’m happy to leave the magic to you.”

I couldn’t help myself, I leaned forward and joined our lips together once again and to my delight, my Merlin returned my embrace with an equal enthusiasm. We sank down in the soft grass and exchanged many delighted kisses and caresses, murmuring together, clearing up many of the misunderstandings that our reticence had caused in the past. His lips reassured me that my deep and abiding love for him was fully requited and the gentle touch of his elegant hands inflamed my passion like no other had ever done before. We whiled away the afternoon consummating our mutual love in joyous abandon. When evening fell Merlin conjured a fire that provided both heat and light yet consumed no fuel and left not the smallest patch of scorched earth in its wake.

We slept that night with eager flesh pressed close and the silken skin of his long, slender limbs tangled with the hair roughened strength of my own. I woke shortly before dawn and spent several long moments admiring my lover’s extraordinary beauty. Soon enough though, his jewel blue eyes blinked slowly into wakefulness and his mouth curved slightly in a sleepy smile.

“We need to return to Camelot you know. Arthur is still in shock over both Morgana’s revelations and her death. He is not entirely happy with me for either. However, he hasn’t ordered my execution yet so I shall take that as a good sign that we may yet come through this with scars that will not reach so deep that they cripple us.”

“Arthur should be down on his knees in eternal gratitude that not only does he have his Kingdom and Queen but that he lived a single moment past his twentieth year! Had it not been for you, he wouldn’t even be alive, he’d have nothing, and he’d be nothing. All that he is has been the result of your advent in his life.”

He flung his head back and laughed long and hard. When next he spoke, he was still chucking. “I don’t think our King is quite ready to admit he owes his life, his crown, his Kingdom and especially his wife to his fool of a manservant. He needs time to adjust.”

“Then let him adjust without you. We could go to Ealdor, I have yet to meet your mother and I long to meet the extraordinary woman I have to thank for my happiness.”

“Well, he did threaten to banish me but Gwen intervened. Also the Queen has requested me to bring you home so that she might apologize for her actions the last time you met.”

“Merlin, I don’t even know what transpired the last time she thinks she met me. That was simply my body; Morgana sundered my soul from my flesh and set it adrift in the ether. If you hadn’t called me back, conjoined the disparate pieces of my torn spirit, my soul would still be shredded in a thousand fragments on the wind. You saved me, sent my spirit here to Avalon where Freya helped me heal.”

“Do you want to know what Morgana did with your flesh whilst it was in her possession?”

I winced. I doubted I’d hear anything but horror but I had had no control over any of it at the time. However, it was my likeness that had done Morgana’s bidding and I knew there were those who would forever condemn me for these acts.

“Yes, I think I must hear what transpired while my soul was soaring with the clouds and diving deeper beneath the earth than the oldest trees alive.”

He stroked my cheek again before he began.

“I suspected from the beginning that the man who returned to us was not truly you. First, your greeting to me was cold, as if I was nothing more than a servant to you. Never in our long friendship have you ever treated me as anything other than your equal. Then when you forgot I had magic, I knew for certain it could not be you. Gaius and I performed a spell that confirmed for us that the man before us was nothing more than a shade, a pale imitation of the real you. However, we had no way to warn the king without revealing our own use of magic so we vowed to watch your fleshly specter. Suspecting Morgana was behind this act of necromancy, we both naturally assumed that Arthur was to be the target of the shade’s malice. We were mistaken.”

He raised pained eyes to mine and I read the guilt and regret reflected in those oceanic depths.

“When I finally realized that it was Gwen who was to be the victim of Morgana’s scheming, I tried to stop the shade. Unfortunately my magic proved less effective than I would have suspected and your semblance knocked me unconscious in an out of the way corridor. By the time I woke and made it to the council chambers the damage had been done. Your shade and Gwen were locked in a passionate embrace and Arthur arrived as soon as I did and witnessed the seeming betrayal. You must understand this happened on the very eve of their wedding.”

Merlin winced, bit his lip and sighed deeply before he continued.

“Arthur felt compelled by both his terrible hurt and his uncle’s evil machinations to banish Guinevere from Camelot. I knew he would regret it later but I could not change his mind. Later that morning we received word that “you” had killed yourself while being held in the dungeon. Due to your past loyalty and sacrifices for Camelot, he asked me to see you received a proper burial. I took your body to the only place I felt worthy of you, Avalon. I tried to call your spirit back from wherever Morgana had banished it but I wasn’t sure I’d succeeded until you woke and thanked me. From there on, I think you know more about what’s transpired than I do.”

I nodded and spoke slowly for the memories themselves were sluggish in nature.

“I became part of the lake, like your lady Freya. It was a very peaceful afterlife. All I did was dream of you so it was almost as good as life will finally feel to know you requite me.”

He leaned close to me and nipped playfully at my neck before burying his face there. I could feel the words spoken against my skin and the vibrations made me shiver in delight.

“I still can’t believe it was _me_ you were pining for all these years. I never thought there could be anyone for you but Gwen.” He giggled a bit then.” I certainly know both Arthur and Gwen believed it to be so. I think they may be a bit surprised by us when we return.” He grew serious once again. “And return we must. Arthur might be angry with me but I cannot leave him and Camelot undefended. Morgana may be gone for the moment but there are still others with an axe to grind against our King. Will you come with me?

“To the ends of this world and the next. You’ve ever only had to ask and I’d grant you anything that’s in my power to give you.”

He kissed me again before rising from our comfortable mossy nest. “I’ll not ask you to travel so far, just back to Camelot at my side.’

“Ever and always my Merlin. Ever and always.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Comments are always welcome, even a simple smiley face or a "I liked it." Also. there's always the "kudos" button!


End file.
